The Counterfeit Betrothal (7 page)

“Here, here!” Hastings said in mock alarm. “You ain’t sick, are you? Feverish, p’rhaps? Next you’ll be telling me you mean to wed Miss Delwyn after all.”

Jeremy laughed harshly. “You forget, she has already refused me. Not that I am not grateful for the escape. I need no such determined woman about me; far better that I should find someone biddable whom I can leave behind in the country and who I may be sure will not interfere with my pleasures.”

“Oh, certainly,” Hastings agreed dryly, “and never mind the boredom.”

“Enough,” Jeremy said in a dangerously quiet voice. “You’ve made your point and we are almost at White’s. Do try to recollect our purpose tonight.” As the two young men entered White’s they immediately found themselves surrounded by Jeremy’s friends. They were, without exception, heedless rakes and gamblers and miscreants.

“Jeremy!” one of them called out, his voice showing the effects of more than a little wine. “To be leg-shackled at last, are you?”

“Did you hear of Ware’s latest scandal?” someone else said, trying to avert a fight.

“Care to wager on the race to Brighton to be held next Wednesday, Barnett?”

With something akin to dismay, Jeremy realized that there was not a one among them he could have introduced to Emmaline with pride. With unaccustomed curtness he excused himself from their company, saying, “Sorry, my friends. I am pledged to respectability for the next few months. Certainly until after my nuptials. And if you have been wagering that the notice in the
Gazette
was an error, have a care to your pockets.”

Amid good-natured curses, Barnett and Hastings moved on into another room of the club. Edward only had time to murmur, “You lie very well,” before they were met with frosty stares.

More than one member of White’s had been heard to state that Jeremy Barnett ought never to have been admitted to the club. Still, one or two came forward, if a trifle reluctantly, to wish him well. “Congratulations, Barnett. I own I am astonished to hear you are to wed Delwyn’s daughter,” Lord Alvanley said, a note of interest to his voice.

“Thank you, m’lord,” Jeremy replied coolly, refusing to say more.

Another member said bluntly, “I trust you will not be offended, Barnett, if I say that the girl deserves far better than you.”

“How can I be offended when I quite agree?” Jeremy replied with a simper.

Recognizing the signs of his friend’s rising temper, Edward intervened hastily, “That’s as may be, Jeremy, but the young lady appears to consider herself fortunate.”

“The more fool she!” another member snorted. Jeremy raised his quizzing glass to his eye and spoke grimly. “Ah, Crandall, but that is precisely where you are out! The last word one might use with respect to Miss Delwyn is
fool.
And may I remind you that I am her
fiancé
and that I might take grave exception to any slur cast upon her character?”

Both men stared at one another, neither willing to give way. In exasperation Hastings told Jeremy, “Oh, do give over! They will meet Miss Delwyn soon enough and see for themselves. You do her a discredit when you act as though she cannot speak for herself.”

Jeremy turned to his friend and demanded wearily, “Why is it that I tolerate you, Hastings? You are most unlike my other companions.”

“Praise God for that!” Edward replied coolly. “As for why you tolerate me, you have no choice. Miss Delwyn is staying at m’mother’s house, remember?”

“Your mother’s house?” Petersham demanded.

Suddenly everyone’s interest had been aroused. Mutters of “That makes a difference, indeed!” could be heard in the background.

As though unaware of the whispers, Hastings replied calmly, “Come, Jeremy, I believe we are engaged to play cards this evening. And before that I wish to dine.”

Arm in arm, the two friends left the room apparently oblivious to the consternation they left behind. They did not, however, in the end play cards. Instead, after more than enough wine, Jeremy Barnett angrily dragged his friend along to a certain house in St. John’s Woods. “Are you sure this is wise?” Hastings asked doubtfully. “If your father—”

“My father is precisely the reason we are going there,” Jeremy said coldly. “Even he would not expect me to give up my mistress without telling her so myself.”

“Give up your mistress?” Hastings choked. “Here, I say, isn’t that going a bit far?”

Jeremy met his friend’s eyes coolly. “As I told Miss Delwyn, I mean to give my father no cause for complaint in the next few weeks. And he would have complaint were it to get out and about I was visiting my mistress while Emmaline was in town. Besides,” he said with a wry smile, “my current situation no longer allows of my paying Daphne’s expenses. It is only fair to free her to take on a protector who can. What about you, Edward?”

Hastings looked affronted. “No offense, old fellow, but you know I’ve never much liked the woman. Delightful as she is, of course.”

Jeremy bowed ironically. “Any further objections?” he asked.

“None.”

“Good. Do you mean to accompany me, then, or will you leave me to face her, er, temper alone?”

“Oh, very well, I’ll come with you,” Hastings grumbled good-naturedly. “Though mind, only if you do indeed mean to break with her.”

“I do, Hastings, I do,” came the maddeningly calm reply.

8

Word
soon spread that Jeremy Barnett’s
fiancée
was in London and staying with Mrs. Hastings. That lady, never a recluse, found herself inundated with callers, all curious to see her young houseguest. It was a circumstance she accepted with great equanimity.

“It is only human nature,” she told Emmaline calmly. “Just as it is human nature to be spiteful should they find anything in you to dislike—so have a care, my dear. Not that I think you need worry. It is also human nature to be delighted to see such a fellow as Jeremy Barnett captured at last. Besides, if you recollect all that I have taught you these past few days, the
ton
should find nothing to fault in you.”

Which was no more than the truth, Emmaline, thought wryly as her maid put the finishing touches to her toilette and she prepared to go downstairs. Mademoiselle Suzette had done a superb job in outfitting Emmaline for her
come out
, and both Mrs. Hastings and Jeremy were doing their best to polish her manners for the
ton
—not that those manners had required a great deal of polishing.
Still, she knew herself to be at her best as she descended the stairs. She wore a sprigged muslin gown and her hair done up charmingly by Mrs. Hastings’ own hairdresser and an air of modesty that belied her knowledge of the reason most visitors had come to call.

Jeremy was, of course, already there. He had no wish to court his father’s ire by appearing to neglect Emmaline, particularly not before his own plans were resolved. But to ensure that, he must ensure her acceptance by the dragons of the
ton.
So each day, as Mrs. Hastings received her visitors, he called and sat with Emmaline, the perfect embodiment of a reformed rake. More than one matron went away voicing her distrust of Barnett’s transformation, but none could deny that at the very least Miss Delwyn had coaxed such a pretense out of the young man and that was a thing most would have been prepared to wager was impossible.

More than that, a friendship began to grow between the counterfeit couple—albeit an uneasy one. In the quiet afternoons Jeremy would take Emmaline to visit parts of the city most members of the
ton
were scarcely aware of. More than one almshouse and hospital had reason to thank him for his generosity, as did a number of individuals. And after his initial disbelief that she was truly interested, he allowed Emmaline to help him in his endeavors. For Emmaline, they were a welcome change from the frivolous mornings, which, while entertaining, seemed strangely empty after the years of taking care of her father. And Jeremy could not deny that her caring concern meant as much to many of these people as his money. Still, she could not bring herself to marry him.

After one particularly tedious morning and discouraging afternoon, both Jeremy and Emmaline escaped to go for a drive with something akin to relief. She wore a gown of very becoming creamy silk with lace at the bosom and wrists, a fetching creation of straw upon her head. Jeremy wore a coat of blue that Fitted him superbly, as always, over pants of the lightest shade of brown. They made, more than one observer noted, a very handsome couple.

Neatly he threaded his curricle through the crowded streets and into the park. As usual when he was in London, Jeremy drove mismatched horses, a conceit that was but one more way that Jeremy thumbed his nose at the conventions of the
ton.
Sporting men knew, however, that in spite of their appearance, these horses were among the fastest goers in London and that Jeremy Barnett possessed an enviable skill with the whip.

None of these things was on Emmaline’s mind, however, as she twisted the fabric of her skirt in her hands. Unaware of her unusual distress, Jeremy continued with his lecture. “Upon no account, must you waltz at Almack’s until you are given permission. You are fortunate as it is to receive cards admitting you, but Edward knew his mother would somehow contrive. I suppose we must thank the Countess Lieven. She has always disliked me intensely and it is her way of saying she is delighted I am to be leg-shackled at last.”

“How gratifying to know that my acceptance is based upon my ability to discomfort you,” Emmaline replied, goaded by these words.

Jeremy drew his horses to a halt and turned to look at Emmaline in astonishment. “Now that is the most hen-witted thing I have ever heard! As if you didn’t know very well that my current acceptance is due almost entirely to your patent virtues.” Emmaline shrugged and, exasperated, Jeremy went on, “I should think you might have the grace to at least appear grateful for the efforts I am making upon your behalf. I have introduced you to no less than five very respectable, very eligible young gentlemen. And with luck you will soon have your pick of a great many more. All acceptable to your father and mine.”

“Oh yes, they were respectable indeed!” Emmaline agreed, her eyes flashing. “And all five of them without two thoughts to rub together between them.”

Aghast at what she had just said, Emmaline covered her mouth with one hand. In spite of himself, Jeremy laughed and once more urged his horses forward. “Well, but you cannot blame me for that,” he told her with a grin. “You claim to be so respectable yourself that I thought you would like them.”

“Hmmm,” Emmaline agreed warily. “As though I didn’t know very well that you are worried about what your father will say when we break off our betrothal. You wish to see me settled with someone he would approve of.”

This was familiar ground. Once more Jeremy risked a glance at Emmaline. “Someone you and your father would approve of,” he corrected her grimly. “Somehow I find that matters more to me than what my father will think of the fellow. How is your father? What news do you have of him?”

Emmaline looked down at her hands and spoke with some difficulty. “Mrs. Colton, writes that he is doing well but I cannot help but know she is trying to spare me worry. I have lived too long with Papa’s illness to believe he will recover. But at least I am reassured there are no new crisis.”

“And did you write your father about London?” Jeremy asked, a trifle anxiously.

In spite of herself, Emmaline smiled. “Yes, yes I did. And Papa wrote back that he is delighted I am enjoying myself. He says that even in the shires word has reached him of the success I am having. He also says that word has reached your father of your reformed behavior and Lord Barnett is more confirmed than ever in his belief that our betrothal was a good thing. Papa says he is still pressing for an immediate wedding but he has persuaded him to wait a little longer.”

“Thank God for your father’s good sense!” Jeremy said savagely. “Were matters left to mine, we would have a disaster upon our heads.”

Emmaline placed a gentle hand on Jeremy’s arm. “I cannot think your father means you ill,” she said. “Too often I have heard him speak of you with gruff affection, for all the anger that was in his voice as well.”

Biting off each word as he spoke, Jeremy said, “My father has always hated me. I cannot doubt that if he could, he would have me unborn. Were it possible, he would disown me entirely and I him. Instead you and I are forced to this masquerade, and I am sorry you must play a part in it. You would have been better off had you never known my father and me.”

Quietly Emmaline withdrew her hand. “Indeed?” she asked with a sigh. “Have you forgotten that I accepted you of my own free will? Or that I agreed to this plan to please
both
our fathers? To be sure it was a mistake, but you can scarcely claim all the blame yourself for our mutual folly.”

“It is pointless to argue with you, isn’t it?” he asked with a laugh.

“Certainly it is if you intend to wallow in
self-pity
,” she replied bluntly. “So let us speak of other matters. I think I may have someone you will like.”

Jeremy groaned. “Another demure chit, straight from the schoolroom?” he demanded.

“That is not entirely fair,” Emmaline said frostily. “I have also pointed out to you two widows, both just shy of four and twenty.”

“Aye, and both have thrown their caps at me before,” he told Emmaline grimly. “I don’t like them nor would my father.”

“Shall I look among the demimonde, then?” Emmaline asked sweetly. “I had thought of it, knowing your preference for their company, but the thought of your father held me back. After all, had that been acceptable, you would long since have chosen Daphne,” she said, throwing out a name she had overheard coupled with his, hoping he would deny it.

But as usual, Jeremy did not do as Emmaline wished. Instead, he once more halted the horses and turned to her, his face full of thunder. So angry was he that he grasped her wrist with his hand as he roared, “By the devil! Is this the effect a betrothal to me has had on you? Surely Mrs. Hastings, if no one else, has told you that my mistresses are none of your affair. You know very well you ought never to think of such things much less speak of them, particularly to me. I ought to...”

Her heart pounding with rage and jealousy, Emmaline spoke more defiantly than she meant to. “You ought to what?” she challenged him with smoldering eyes.

And there, in the park, in full view of the
ton,
Jeremy kissed Emmaline, pulling her to him angrily and pressing his lips down on hers punishingly. To his astonishment and her own, she found herself once more giving in to the insistence of his caresses, her own hands stealing around his neck as his stole around her waist. All the hours that both of them had spent assuring themselves this would never happen again dissolved as if they had never been. Only the restlessness of his horses pulled Jeremy back to his senses. As he fought to get them under control, Emmaline leaned back, coloring, as she became aware of the amused stares of passersby. Too late, pride came to her rescue as she demanded furiously, “Why did you do that? It will only make our betrothal the harder to break!”

Angry himself, Jeremy did not at once reply. Instead, he settled his horses, then urged them forward at an extremely sedate pace before he said coolly, “Don’t worry, Miss Delwyn. With my reputation it will be assumed that I forced myself upon you and have given you a distaste of me. Though I must say that your own response will make that a trifle hard to swallow. Are you trying to imitate Daphne? I assure you, you cannot match her skill!” He paused, then said very deliberately, “If you are so determined to be rid of me, my dear, I suggest you curb your wayward nature or you may have no choice in the matter. Neither of us will.”

Emmaline blushed hotly, her anger fanned by his reference to his mistress. She forced herself to speak calmly, however. “We cannot break off the betrothal at once, in any event. Our agreement is that we would not until you had found an alternative partner. Unless ... has your solicitor said there is a way around your father’s conditions?” she asked eagerly.

“Until
we
had found alternative partners,” Jeremy reminded her irritably. “And no, Nicholson tells me there is no way around them. The estate is entailed in such a way that I am completely at my father’s mercy.”

“I see.” Emmaline leaned back with a sigh. A trifle grimly she said, “I must confess that your settlement seems to me a greater priority than my own. After all, we need merely tell him I broke the engagement for my own reasons.”

“And your father?”

“My father will understand, if he is still alive to care. I shall make him understand,” she told him resolutely. “But you are changing the subject.”

“If you are waiting for me to say I am sorry I kissed you, then I must tell you I will not,” Jeremy replied with maddening calm. “I quite enjoyed myself and would not mind doing so
again
. And it is quite evident you felt the same. I don’t expect you to admit to that, however, since you insist upon having taken me in such dislike. As to your reputation, should someone have the poor grace to mention it, you need merely freeze the person with a stare and he or she will begin to think themselves mistaken. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Emmaline replied coolly.

“Good.” He paused, then added high-handedly, “But I think we had best look about us for a husband for you, whatever your protests. If you are this warm-blooded with someone you say you dislike, you had best have someone to bed you whom you can marry,” he told her ruthlessly. “Unless you are of a mind to marry me after all?”

“Never!” she retorted. Then, with a scornful laugh she added, “Why? Does your father press harder for an immediate resolution? Are your creditors hounding you at your door?”

“You appear to give very little credence to my proposal,” Jeremy said, lips white with anger.

“Pray, pardon me, sir,” Emmaline said with exaggerated courtesy, “for doubting you. Why, after my experience with your
honesty
in such matters, I must be all about in my head to question your motives. Perhaps you are genuinely tired of looking about you for a wife and have decided that I must do, after all. Kind sir, I am overwhelmed by your flattery! No, Jeremy, I think we had best stick to our plans and find you another bride.”

For a long moment he did not speak. Then, curtly he said, “Well? Are you going to tell me who it is you have found for me?”

“Have you ever met Rosalind Kirkwood?” Emmaline asked, eager to change the subject. “I know she has been absent from London this Season because her youngest sister was ill, but now she has returned. I thought you might have already met her, however, because she was brought out three years ago.”

Barnett frowned. “Kirkwood? Yes. A quiet girl, so far as I recall, but not an altogether unattractive one. Have you been introduced to her?”

“More than that,” Emmaline replied with a smile. “Rosalind and I were best friends at school. She has a fine mind, good conversation, some wit, and general amiability. Your father would certainly like and approve of her and yet she is less likely to bore you than most of the girls you will find in London this Season. No doubt she will be at Carlton House tomorrow night.”